


More Than A Maybe

by thefirstneonphoenix



Category: Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, bon appetite, but that didn't happen, was gonna make this a slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefirstneonphoenix/pseuds/thefirstneonphoenix
Summary: It's been a few years since Dick and Joey have spoken, but maybe they can make this work anyways.AKA: The art patron AU that's been living in my head for the past month.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	More Than A Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> This honestly took forever to write, and I don't know why.

When Dick first came to live with the ruler of Gotham, he had to sit for a portrait. It was long and tortuous, and he vowed never to allow such an indignity again. He has done so every 5 years since. This year, the painter is different. It’s no longer Adeline Kane, but her son, Joseph, that arrives at the palace that morning. 

Dick had first met him when he was seventeen, when he was just beginning to clash with Bruce. At that time, he had been too caught up in his own angst and bitterness to realize how captivated he was by the boy trailing after his mother. Not in the way he did afterward. Now, Dick is 22, and although this portrait should have been done the previous year, for his coming-of-age, he had been yet too newly returned to the fold, and so the family had found it prudent to put it off.

Perhaps he shouldn't have put it off after all, is the only thought that enters his brain when he watches Joey from a parapet. Dick thinks he’s taller, but it’s hard to tell. Regardless, he cuts a surprisingly imposing figure for someone who makes their living by painting. The wind gently tousles blond curls, kept somewhat longer than is the usual fashion in the court. Joey looks up at him as he enters, and even from such a height, Dick swears he can see every shade of green known to man somehow floating in those eyes.

The painter will be led to the studio and given time to prepare, and Dick needs to prepare himself as well. Alfred will have sent someone to his chambers by now, if it is not he himself who will be dressing Dick. Wary of a lecture on the importance of punctuality in men of all stations, he turns from the parapet and hurries away.

Once he is inside the castle proper, he stops a moment to blink until his eyes have adjusted. Regardless of how well he might know the halls, it would not be prudent for him to be caught stumbling, as Alfred never fails to remind him. Instead, he focuses on the stone of the walls, tracing the lines until they are the right color.

A curt, “Master Richard,” rings down the corridor. Dick turns to Alfred with a grin and gives a little wave.

“I do hope you weren’t trying to  _ hide _ from the portraitist. He did come all this way, after all.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Dick quipped, walking with him. “I was watching him arrive. Has his mother retired? He came by himself.”

“She was unable to come, as she is in the middle of a larger commission. She sent her son, however, and has assured us in every way of his competency as an artist.”

“Is he a journeyman then? Or still her apprentice?”

“I believe he is a journeyman.”

They turned into Dick’s chambers, where an outfit was waiting for him. As expected, the outfit appeared to be neither comfortable nor tasteful; but that didn’t matter, it was merely something meant to display wealth.

“If he is a journeyman, then he should be in search of a patron, correct? Unless he intends to take his mother’s place in Bruce’s court.”

“That I cannot say, my boy. While it is likely that he inherits his mother’s connections, it is also possible that he intends to one day strike out on his own. Now lift your arm.” Alfred pinned something in place and turned him around. “Although if I were him, I would use my mother’s patrons until I found one that struck my fancy, and after achieving a moderately stable source of income, begin to broaden my horizons. But who's to say what he will do.”

“I know  _ I  _ could never ride along Bruce’s cape in that way, but we’ve never really gotten along in a way that made me feel comfortable with that.” Dick looked back at Alfred, to gauge his reaction.

He appeared saddened at the reminder, continuing with a quiet, “Yes, well.”

“Regardless. Do try to not make a nuisance of yourself this time?”

“I like to think my self control has improved a bit,” Dick chuckled, “I’m sure you can have faith in me.”

“We’ll see.” Came the dry response. “Now, I do believe that he should be set up by now, so get on your way, and have fun sitting for a few hours. If worse comes to worse, you can always talk up a storm to him.”

“You don’t think it would be rude?”

“Nonsense, he’s being paid. Now  _ go.” _

Dick made his way down the corridor, laughing as he went. As he drew closer, however, his footsteps began to falter. This was not an experience that he remembered to be pleasant, by any means. But, if he was honest with himself, that wasn’t the only reason he was nervous. Last time Dick’s sign hadn’t been the best, but he knew enough to understand Joey a bit. He might even have considered them friends at one point, but now he just wasn’t sure where they stood. Perhaps this time he could make more of an effort. There was something compelling about Joey, and Dick wanted to learn more about him.

The studio is the same as he remembers it being, a relatively small room, but equipped with windows on two separate walls to let in light. There’s a chair for him to sit in, and he moves to sit in it. Across the room, Joey is fiddling with a charcoal stick, gaze fixed upon him. Dick feels a shiver run down his spine, and tries to cover it with a small wave. Joey smiles at him and waves back, before turning to his canvas, then returning to studying Dick.

This is the most painful bit, the initial sketch. It takes the longest and has the least to show for it. Once the sketch is done, he won’t absolutely have to sit again until it’s time for the finishing touches. Although Joey might still need him to sit more, depending on his technique. Dick doesn’t know if he wants to sit for longer or not.

The room is stifling, and they’ve barely even begun. He feels unreasonably pinned by that gaze, in a way that he hadn’t felt on either occasion when Adeline took his portrait. There hadn’t been this much tension before either. Being around Joey had been easy, freeing even. Dick remembered afternoons spent sitting under trees, until the harsh light of the sun faded to a golden glow. He remembered a night spent on the parapets, gazing up at the stars. It all seemed so distant now. A painful twinge of what could have been, but was not. Perhaps if he and Bruce hadn’t been fighting… But no matter. It was too late now.

Dick was snapped out of his reverie when Joey began to cross the room.

“Do you need me to reposition?”

Joey nodded and touched Dick’s shoulder gently, guiding him into position, before taking his hands and laying them in his lap. Dick felt his breath catch as Joey’s fingers brushed his jawline, and turned it. They lingered there, beneath his chin, for a long moment. Dick swallowed and stared up at Joey, searching his expression. There was a hint of something in his eyes, a question painting his brow, but Dick had no answer. Eventually Joey stepped back, letting his hand fall by his side. 

He took one more look at Dick, appraising, and then moved back behind his canvas and began to work. Dick closed his eyes as phantom sensations played out across the top of his shoulder, his hands, and beneath his chin. He wanted to move, to run and jump and leave. He wanted to stagnate, to sit and linger and stay. He wanted to ask where Joey had been, how his mother was, whether or not he knew his sister. He wanted to know if there was more than just a maybe between them, if in the future there might be a chance.

But he was too uncertain to ask any of those things. Instead, he stared at his hands and contemplated the filigree of his ring.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Dick began to fidget with the cuff of his sleeve. His back itched, a particularly rough section of the cloth rubbing against it. To distract himself, he began to talk. He retold a story from just last week, of how Jason and Tim had rigged one of the chandeliers to come flying down on top of a visiting noble, only for it to stop at the last second, once they deemed the noble suitably alarmed. Despite having been in cahoots, they both readily threw the other under the cart when confronted by Bruce. Each had been tasked with cleaning the chandeliers, since they seemed to like them so much. He continued to recount various anecdotes until his voice grew tired, at which point he turned to Joey, who was looking at him affectionately.

Dick blinked. It was as if nothing had changed at all. The years that stretched between then and now faded into the distance, until they were just two boys, staring at each other across the room, and carefully avoiding something that might be growing between them. He felt as though he could leap off the highest tower, and never fall, just walk through the clouds as if they were rose gardens. He took a chance, and decided to jump.

“How has your life been? Alfred said you were a journeyman now.”

“Yes,” Joey signed, “I’ve been working on my own for about a year and a half now.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s been branching out, painting more of what she wants to paint and taking fewer commissions. Her patronage is stable enough for that now.”

“That’s good. And you?”

“I’ve been using her connections, but I don’t have any consistent patrons.”

Before Dick could inquire further, Joey asked him a question. “When you left, you were in love with that princess, from Tameran. Weren’t you engaged?”

“We...were together,” Dick answered slowly, “Bruce didn’t approve of the match, which was part of why I left. Her parents arranged a marriage for her and we broke things off.”

“I’m sorry,” Joey signed, his eyes wide in an almost frighteningly genuine display of sympathy.

“Yes, well… We’re still friends, and I learned a lot about myself and the world, so it wasn’t a complete loss.”

Joey continued sketching for a moment before asking, “Did you love her?”

“I-”  _ Not as much as you, _ was the only thought entering Dick’s head. “I think I did. Maybe. But I’ve loved more earnestly before.” He hesitated.

“And I’m not sure I  _ could _ love anyone else as earnestly as I loved the one before.”

Dick watched as Joey stilled, just for the briefest of moments. When he lifted his hands, they were cautious, deliberate movements.

“What was it like, to love the one before?”

“Easy.” Dick decided. “It was like waking up every morning and seeing their face and being filled with the euphoric notion that this could last a lifetime. I never wanted it to end, but I don’t think I realized that until it was too late.”

Joey had given up sketching, and now just watched Dick intently. Dick squirmed in place, uncertain of what he should say, if he should say anything at all. He could see Joey thinking, considering, pondering, before finally making a decision.

“You left.”

“I shouldn’t have. At least not you.” Dick finally admitted. “I needed to leave Bruce, to leave Gotham. I just should have left it all with you.”

“I will be here for a few months,” Joey suggested. “Perhaps… It will not be too late then.”

“You would stay?”

Joey shook his head. “I still need steady work, remember? I have no permanent patron.”

“I could,” Dick barely restrained himself from leaping forward. “Be your patron that is. I have the money, and a castle and land of my own. It isn’t fully in order, but I doubt it will take long to do so.”

Dick hesitated, “But only if you want me to.”

Joey stared at him in surprise, and replied, equally hesitant, “I’ll have to think about it. Thank you for the offer.”

“Of course. Anything for you. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

Joey smiled at him, and Dick felt that he had finally made the right decision.

Joey turned back to his canvas, but not before signing, “Tell me about this castle and land of yours.”

Dick grinned, and launched into explanation. “Bruce has asked me to oversee Bludhaven. It was once its own land, wholly separate from Gotham, but was annexed by his grandfather. Nothing was ever really done, and aside from an occasional yearly tribute, there hasn’t been much in the way of communication between us and them. I’ve been working to help fix the infrastructure, y’know, building roads, fixing bridges, the like. Once I’ve done that, I’d also like to build a school there, and I’ve been in contact with an abbey about potentially building a hospital.”

Dick continued to tell Joey about his project, heedless of the itch on his back or the stiffness in his arms. There was time to figure all of this out. And if he tried, really tried, this time, they might become more than a maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a follow up, I really like this idea for them.  
> I'm even considering trying to write it from Joey's pov, although I don't feel as confident in my ability to write him.


End file.
